


Tentacle Call Boy Christmas

by vinyl_octopus



Series: Tentacle 'verse [2]
Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: AU of an AU, Alternate Universe - Crack, Alternate Universe - Escorts, Christmas, Established Relationship, Flirting, Fluff and Crack, M/M, Romance, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-26
Updated: 2013-11-26
Packaged: 2018-01-02 16:20:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1058965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vinyl_octopus/pseuds/vinyl_octopus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a Crack!AU of <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/1052937">Christmas Wrapping</a> set simultaneously in the <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/568399/chapters/1017483">Secret Diary of a Call Boy</a> and <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/568375">Hidden</a> worlds because of <a href="http://cabinpres-fic.dreamwidth.org/6625.html?thread=12988641#cmt12988641">this thread</a>. </p>
<p>Original prompt: Since Douglas has been so very good, Martin gets all tied up in ribbons, decorations, and bows. Douglas gets to unwrap him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tentacle Call Boy Christmas

“You know, of course,” said Douglas, sliding his arms around Martin’s waist possessively, “that she’s going to try to talk you back into working for her.” 

“Well of course she is.” Martin kissed away the frown of concern he knew Douglas would deny had ever formed between his brows. “She asks me every time I see her.” 

Douglas’s arms tightened even as he affected a disinterested drawl. “Does she now?” 

Martin pressed close to breathe into Douglas’s ear, plucking his jacket from the hook behind his shoulder at the same time. “But she and I both know that I will turn her down.” He nipped Douglas’s earlobe as he slid his arm into the coat. “Never again, Douglas.” 

Douglas sighed, half-mollified, and pulled back to admire his lanky lover, clad in his best, form-fitting suit. Collar unbuttoned to reveal creamy-white collar bones. Auburn curls, freed from their usual restrictive scraped-back position, had been allowed to tousle artfully across his forehead. 

Douglas swallowed tightly and deliberately did not look lower. Martin smirked mischievously, but his eyes were soft. “You know, you could come with me.” 

“I really don’t think this is the kind of ‘office party’ at which partners would be welcome, Martin.” 

“First of all, it’s not _my_ ’office’, not any more. Second of all… you know Monique. And it’s not… Oh god, Douglas!” Martin finally caught on to his partner’s real concern. “No one is going to be _working_ tonight. There won’t be any…” 

“Clients?” 

Martin shifted. “Yes. No. No clients.” 

“Another reason I shouldn’t go then. Given I…” Douglas waved a hand vaguely. 

The air of teasing had settled to a low hum of dull tension. Martin’s cheekily confident poise had slumped to uncertain, mild distress. He was nibbling at his lip, one hand toying at the button of his jacket, clearly intending to take it off and give up on his planned evening. 

Douglas shook himself, irritated at the maudlin turn he’d allowed the evening to take. “Don’t be ridiculous, Martin. You hardly see Clive these days” – Martin blushed. Douglas didn’t notice – “and I know for a fact you miss him. I know you made some good friends, no matter what else may have happened. And if I know anything about Monique, it’s that she knows how to put on a damn good soiree. There’ll be some jolly fine cocktails at this bar; it would be a crime for you to miss out.” He kissed Martin’s tortured lip into submission. “Besides which, I need some time to finish gift wrapping. So you, go and make use of this rather delectable ensemble –” he ran a hand down Martin’s silk-clad chest “– so I can enjoy taking it off you when you get home.” 

Martin nodded, only slightly more certain. Douglas caught his eye with the most lascivious wink he could muster and pushed him towards the door with lips and tongue and hands. Taking advantage of Martin’s flustered state, he opened the front door and tipped him out with a light smack to the bum. Martin stumbled off the front step, delightfully flushed and dishevelled, but grinning. He saluted Douglas and wandered down the front path to make his way to the main street and find a taxi. Douglas was gratified to notice the subtle waddle his young man had been forced to adopt, and held back a laugh as Martin stopped by the front gate to surreptitiously rearrange the contents of his tight trousers. 

  


***

  


Martin slithered off the bar stool and gave Monique a warm kiss on the cheek as he finished his farewells. It had been a pleasant evening, and Monique’s attempts to bring him back into the fold had only been half-hearted – even she could see Martin was radiant with happiness in a way he hadn’t been during his employ with her. As Martin made his way to the door, unrolling his sleeves and shrugging on his jacket against the anticipated cold, Clive raised his glass with a knowing smirk and mouthed “ _good luck_ ”. 

He shook his head at the oddest "work party" he'd ever attended for Christmas. He didn't quite fit in with that well-dressed crowd (though it wasn’t as bad as the Fitton air field party usually was) but, as he hailed a cab, he admitted to himself that in many ways it had been worth the heartache. Which was why he’d stayed in touch. Monique, as Clive had promised would be the case, did look out for him and had embraced, rather than been horrified by, Martin’s…special skills. 

As well she might. He may not have got _much_ work – a taxi finally slowed and Martin tucked himself into the back, reciting the address without even thinking about it – but he’d had a select list of clients who appreciated his _uniqueness_. And Monique could charge unbelievable sums….not to mention ensuring discretion on both sides. Something Martin could never have managed on his own. 

Not that he’d ever have considered such a side career without Clive’s influence. 

Still, he was glad to be out of it. He’d earned enough over the year that he'd been able to splurge on taxis a little more often. Buy proper food more regularly. Get the van in good repair. And give decent gifts this year. 

As the taxi pulled up outside Douglas's building, Martin smiled, handing over the fare and climbing out. Of course, this year was the first time he'd really had anyone, besides his family, to buy presents _for_. Still, there were no regrets at giving up the extra-curricular activities. Douglas had already invited him to move in, and half his stuff was already here. He’d finally convinced Carolyn to pay him a decent wage. 

He looked up at the stars and sighed. It was much later than he’d planned, although he doubted Douglas would be surprised. Or even awake. Martin swayed slightly where he stood, the aftereffects of nearly a whole bottle of Champagne plus several ludicrous cocktails floating pleasantly through his bloodstream. 

Douglas had been extremely open minded about Martin's various... Issues. It was only fair that he be repaid...  


 

He'd given up on the tinsel. Too scratchy and the stuff went everywhere. But there was some rather lovely satin ribbon left over from wrapping all the gifts, so Martin availed himself of that. And a few bell decorations from the tree, of course. The pièce de résistance. 

With help from Clive, he'd been training for months... 

Now he was tucked half under the tree, half reclined behind Douglas's old velour sofa. He'd made himself as comfortable as possible, knowing he might have to doze a bit. He hadn't really thought that through when he'd ... got himself together. There was a distinct possibility of... cramping. He concentrated and uncoiled to release the six or so baubles he had been clutching. They dropped to the carpet by his groin with a muffled tinkling sound. He'd have to reinstate them later. He hoped none of them had rolled under the sofa. 

He hoped he didn't fall asleep and roll over onto any of them.  


 

Two hours. 

Two whole hours before Douglas finally came tromping down the stairs, humming "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer". 

Martin bit his lip and tucked a furtive hand down between his legs to retrieve the ornaments, concentrating hard and managing to get each one held in place... Then he reclined, carefully folding his arms behind his head and waited. 

Finally Douglas's slipper appeared in the corner of his eye as he pulled the cord to draw the curtains, filling the room with muted dawn light. Then a trouser-covered knee narrowly missed Martin's elbow as Douglas knelt to place an extravagantly wrapped gift on the pile near the front of the tree. 

Martin bit his lip and concentrated hard, managing to... _jingle_ one of his bells. Very deliberately. 

Douglas paused. Clearly thinking it was the tree shaking, he stood with a slight grunt. 

Martin jingled another, then another. He was almost breaking into a sweat now. Not quite playing a tune, but very obviously _ringing_ the bells. 

“Martin?” Douglas ducked down to peer under the tree. Martin’s top half was hidden behind the tallest stack of gifts nearest the wall. His legs were behind the sofa. Only his festively bedecked groin would have been visible to Douglas. 

He rang another bell. 

Douglas dropped to his knees with a guffaw of laughter. He lifted the uppermost gifts to reveal Martin, propped back on both elbows, smug grin in place. 

"Merry Christmas, Douglas." 

"Merry Christmas, Martin. I must say, that's quite a trick. Can you play ‘Jingle Bells’?" 

"No,” confessed Martin, “but I can do this...” Tongue poking out with concentration, he carefully rang each bell in succession, finishing by ringing them all at once in riot of Christmas jingling that was as erotic as it was inappropriate. 

Douglas could not tear his eyes away from his partner’s writhing nether regions and cleared his throat. “How difficult would it be for you to come–” Martin raised a suggestive eyebrow “–out from behind there?” 

The way Douglas had his hand pressed into his own crotch undermined the casual tone he'd been aiming for. 

Martin slithered forward a little, grimacing as two hours lying cold, naked and contorted caught up with him. 

“Might be easier if you can shift the couch, actually.” 

They both laughed as Douglas hauled the couch forward and freed Martin from his prison against the wall. 

Martin walked forward on his knees into Douglass arms and they shared a warm embrace and an even warmer kiss. 

“Hard to believe,” said Douglas, lacing his fingers through the mass of tentacles at Martin’s groin and grinning at Martin’s shiver and the sound of tiny bells being dropped to the floor, “that only a year ago you were hiding this from me.” He ran a hand up Martin's rock-hard shaft as Martin let out a shuddering sigh. 

“W-w-well, I hadn't had s-such an enthu-u- _u_ -siastic reception b-before.” 

“Hmmm...” said Douglas, ignoring the thickening, elongating tentacle that was tugging on his wrist in favour of the end of the ribbon he had found ... "Am I meant to unwrap you then, Martin? Is that the idea?” 

“Mmmm, yes,” replied Martín, undulating languidly and nipping at Douglas's bottom lip as he slid a hand into Douglas's trousers. "Just a .... _ooh_... Just a quick t-tug ought to do it." 

Douglas buried one hand in Martin’s head of gloriously thick red curls and pulled him close for a filthy deep kiss as he pulled sharply on the bow. 

Martin jerked back with a cry. 

"Not much of a boy scout then?” Douglas said, trying not to laugh as he rubbed a soothing hand up Martin’s flank and inspected the ribbon, which had been carefully threaded around every tentacle to culminate in a complicated bow around Martin’s shaft. Their activities had already rendered everything a little more...snug than when Martin had first tied it, but Douglas had inadvertently tightened it to apparently painful levels. 

Douglas ducked down to inspect the knots, bestowing kisses and licks as he gently untied and untangled the ribbon. This attention itself took Martin right to the edge, tentacles caressing Douglas's face before he found himself forcibly dragged up for a kiss. 

He ran his hands up and down his pale lover’s long back before planting both hands on plump buttocks and pulling him close. 

Martin’s hard length pushed against Douglas’s lower belly, several tentacles insinuating themselves into his open trousers and alternately stroking his straining underwear and pressing at the fabric of his trousers – evidently trying to move it. They were surprisingly strong and dextrous, tugging the waistband of his underpants down by a good inch or two before Martin drew back with a frustrated gasp, frantically tearing off the rest of Douglas's clothes before aligning their hips so they could both rub together, wrapped in Martin’s sensuously wriggling… squeezing… stroking groinal appendages… 

It was all over rather quickly after that. But it wasn’t a bad start to Christmas morning. After all, they hadn’t even had breakfast yet.


End file.
